


Homecoming

by MordorIsCalling



Series: The Singer and the Sailor AU [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, Geralt in an uniform okay it's a lot, Homecoming, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, One Shot, Reunions, Royal Navy officer Geralt, Singer Jaskier | Dandelion, Thirsty Jaskier | Dandelion, no beta we are feral like Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28350267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MordorIsCalling/pseuds/MordorIsCalling
Summary: As he waits among the bustling crowd, awful what-ifs keep replaying in his head: what if Geralt has, in fact, changed his mind? What if Jaskier only dreamed the fondness? What if Geralt leaves him after he discovers all Jaskier’s flaws? What if –“Dad!” Ciri shouts at the top of her lungs.Jaskier winces at the deafening shriek (Cirilla has quite a set of lungs). When he looks up, he...oh.In which Jaskier sees Geralt for the first time after many months of Geralt's final deployment. It breaks his brain and dooms his heart. (Not that it isn't doomed anyway).
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Singer and the Sailor AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076129
Comments: 36
Kudos: 407





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a follow-up to "Stay or Sail Away". In that story, Jaskier looks for a fake fiancé and finds Geralt, who is a Royal Navy commander. The two start liking each other but then Geralt is called away for the last deployment before retiring. Their last dialogue in that story is important for your understanding of this fic, so here's what they said: 
> 
> _“I’d like it if you were... my siren.”_
> 
> _Jaskier raises his head and frowns up at him. “You actually want me to lead you to your death?”_
> 
> _Geralt chuckles. “No. You’d be of a different kind.”_
> 
> _“Oh?”_
> 
> _“You could...” Geralt answers shyly, “call me home.”_
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The large crowd around them is full of noises: exclamations full of joy and relief, voices raised in excitement, loud calls of many names, hushed whispers and choked sobs. Small groups of people rejoice as they greet their loved ones returning from the long deployment while others still wait, their impatience almost buzzing in the air.

Jaskier stands amidst all the chaos, slightly dazed. He’s quite sure he has never witnessed such magnitude of sheer _emotion_ ever before in his life, even during his own concerts. Motion, tears and happiness are everywhere around, mingling with smiles and embraces, which creates a certain feel that is just so deeply touching – it strikes the very core of it means to be human, Jaskier thinks as he tries to memorize it. Weren’t he distracted by other thoughts, he would write down the words in his head right away; the moment is more than worthy of a song.

He’s restless, anticipation and anxiety both twisting his gut. The wait drags on and on, torturously so, while the crew keeps disembarking. Rationally, Jaskier understands why this is taking so long – the ship (a destroyer, Ciri explained) is pretty damn big, so the crew is obviously large as well. However, reason is now more out of his reach than usual, which equals considerably far away, and he fidgets. Cirilla at his left isn’t still either, but her movements show only excitement. Yennefer at his right just stands in place, seemingly unaffected, her dazzling eyes observing the top of the platform steadily. Jaskier lets out a shaky breath, envying her the confidence a bit.

Ciri must’ve sensed his distress because she grins up at him and reassures, “Don’t worry, Jaskier, dad _is_ coming. He just always deboards last.”

Jaskier nods with a bit of a forced smile but says nothing. Yen glances at him but appears to withhold a comment about his uncharacteristic silence. Normally he would boast that Geralt’s dearest witch of an ex-wife is growing soft on him but nervousness constricts his throat too much.

The problem is, the things he’s afraid of make little _sense_. He has evidence to disprove his fears, and lots of it; every video call with Geralt showed him as much. Throughout the goddamned eleven months of Geralt’s deployment, may they ever be cursed, the two of them always arranged a video call at least once a week. Jaskier was busy with a tour and Geralt had a lot of duties, but they both made an effort. The video calls quickly turned into a precious time that allowed them to get to know each other better – the few weeks of knowing each other in person before the deployment weren’t enough to keep their resolve alive – and Jaskier found himself falling in love so fast it was foolish even to himself. His silly heart was defenceless against Geralt’s caring nature, dry humour and sharp wit, though. He wrote Geralt a song only a month after his departure. Others quickly followed the first one. After he sent each recording to Geralt, the man would thank Jaskier so very earnestly during a video call. The “thank you, siren” murmured with those searing eyes looking at him had Jaskier fucking swooning every time. Geralt’s words fuelled Jaskier’s creativity even more and, at this point, he has enough songs for a whole album that should probably be titled “Lovesickness, Pining and Longing: Please Don’t Fall for A Sailor”.

And yet, for all their bonding over conversations, the growing repertoire of inner jokes and shared stories, the very satisfying and never-too frequent phone sex, the warmth in Geralt’s gaze and his reassurances with actual words that “I want this, Jaskier”, Jaskier still doubts. As he waits among the bustling crowd, awful what-ifs keep replaying in his head: what if Geralt has, in fact, changed his mind? What if Jaskier only dreamed the fondness? What if Geralt leaves him after he discovers all Jaskier’s flaws? What if –

“ _Dad!_ ” Ciri shouts at the top of her lungs.

Jaskier winces at the deafening shriek (Cirilla has quite a set of lungs). When he looks up, he... _oh_.

There Geralt is, beautiful like a vision from Jaskier's dreams. He descends from the platform a step behind two other men, no one else following him. Geralt carries big bags in both his hands as if they weighed nothing, and Jaskier almost cries because of the sweet relief and heady joy of _actually_ seeing him. Geralt isn’t wearing the ceremonial uniform that Jaskier knows from his Facebook profile picture. Instead, it’s the uniform for general duties. The black trousers and the navy jersey with shoulder pads hug his body _beautifully_. A white collar and a bit of a black tie peek out from under the pullover, and the white cap on his head looks criminally good on him. Jaskier knows that he's probably one of the most thirsty people on the planet but _this,_ the sight of Geralt wearing all that, leaving a huge ship with a crew more than a hundred people strong that he commanded for almost a year, takes his libido to a whole another level.

There’s nothing like discovering you have a competence kink as you stand between a certain very competent person’s daughter and ex-wife, Jaskier thinks.

Since his brain is broken, Jaskier can only wait and stare, drinking in the sight of him, and it soothes the powerful, throbbing _ache_ in his heart after so many months without Geralt. Jaskier watches him reach the bottom of the platform, where he’s stopped by the two men walking before him. They salute him, then start clapping. Suddenly, all the members of the crew scattered in the crowd break into cheers and applause.

“Why are they clapping?” Jaskier asks, bemused.

“I think they’re thanking him for his service,” Yennefer replies as she claps too, a rare warm smile lighting up her face.

Jaskier and Ciri immediately join the cheering as loudly as they can (and they do make a lot of noise, considering that he's a singer and Cirilla has the ability her voice into a megaphone). Jaskier has to fight down a laugh as he applauds; from a short distance away that the platform is, he can see Geralt’s grumpy expression. It's so _endearing_ because it's so Geralt - he isn't the type of man to be happy with this kind of recognition.

When the cheers finally die down, Geralt nods in thanks and a few moments later, his feet finally touch land. As if on cue, Cirilla darts off, making her way through the crowd with what seems to be practised ease. The people standing around him and Yen obscure the view but Jaskier can clearly imagine what’s happening: Ciri calling for her father until she sees him, him opening his arms for her, her rushing to his side, the two hugging tight.

It takes a few minutes for Ciri to bring Geralt to them. When the man appears, Jaskier’s does shed a tear this time. Eleven fucking months and Geralt is here _finally,_ ending the nightmare of such a long wait. The endless, empty, hopeless days filled with longing and worry are over - Geralt is back for good. Jaskier wants to hold him and never let go again, but it’s Yennefer who gets to go to him first. She has every right to it, after all, as Ciri’s mother and Geralt’s former spouse. Yen strides towards Ciri and Geralt, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. The people around observe the commander with his family as the three talk with smiles on their faces.

Jaskier looks at them, too, and wonders, not for the first time, if he has any place in this beautiful family at all. Two gorgeous parents and a lovely teenage daughter – where would _he_ fit?

(Now that he looks at Geralt and Yennefer, his raging bisexual soul wails in want and utter confusion over which one of them he finds hotter).

Then, Geralt’s sun-like eyes are on him, and all is silent. Time slows down as Jaskier sees Geralt walk up to him until they’re not even a foot apart. Jaskier doesn’t touch him even though he so wants to, too afraid he’ll find this is all a dream. He takes in all of Geralt's wrinkles, his slight stubble, the cleft oh his chin, and more tears escape. When Jaskier looks back into his eyes, Geralt's gaze is _burning_ with so much emotion reflecting his own that all the air is knocked out of his lungs. 

“Hey,” he greets Geralt breathlessly.

There’s a tiny, precious smile on Geralt’s lips, and his eyes crinkle at the corners in the way that Jaskier adores. “Hey, my siren,” he replies in a murmur.

At the nickname, warmth blooms in Jaskier’s chest and his tears start flowing freely. “I see you answered my call at last, sailor,” he teases, grinning and crying simultaneously like a mess he is.

Geralt huffs a little laugh, then reaches out and brushes his knuckles against Jaskier’s tear-stained cheek. Jaskier almost falls apart at the contact - it proves this is _real._ Quickly grabbing Geralt’s hand with both his own, he steadies it so that it keeps touching his face, grounding him. Geralt starts brushing his thumb over his skin and Jaskier has to close his eyes, overwhelmed, breathing in and out. So many words are at the tip of his tongue that he says nothing.

“Yes,” Geralt answers. The low, husky rumble of his voice reaches Jaskier’s ears, enveloping him like a warm blanket. “Now I’m home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are life, I'd really appreciate if you tossed one 💛💙
> 
> All the best for you all in the upcoming year! 💕💕💕


End file.
